


Photographs

by pagingevilspawn



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, I Watched Too Much Grey's Anatomy, Soulmate AU, because they're the definition of soulmates, jolex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:28:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29024244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagingevilspawn/pseuds/pagingevilspawn
Summary: a soulmate au where on your 16th birthday you get three photographs of your soulmate.
Relationships: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Photographs

**Author's Note:**

> totally forgot that i was going to start posting all my fics on here... anyways, here's a thing i did almost three months ago, i don't know what it is either...

His sixteenth birthday was honestly not something he was looking forward to. He knew his mom wouldn't be stable enough to cook him a cake like she had when he was younger, before her condition worsened to the point where nearly all her days were bad ones, unlike how it had been the previous year. He knew she wouldn't cup his face in her hands and softly speak, "Alex, my sweetest boy. My truest love." as she stroked his cheeks ever so tenderly. His dad wasn't around anymore, which he knew was a positive thing, well, he supposed it was.

But it was still the first birthday without his dad in it, and that thought made him sad. Not a lot, but a little. Just because all of his birthdays for the past nine years had been his dad telling him that he was a waste of space and a 'fucking idiot' didn't mean he didn't miss him in the smallest way shape or form. He was still his dad after all. The guy who brought him to the fair when he was younger. The guy who briefly taught him how to play guitar. And on the rare occasion when he was sober for about a week or so, would bring Alex out to fix up a pick up truck his dad planned to give him on his sixteenth birthday, but ultimately started using not long before his fifteenth.

He knew Aaron and Amber would maybe do something, but he knew there wasn't much they _could_ do. They were only four and ten. They shouldn't do anything for their brother because he was feeling crappy about a day that didn't even mean that much to him.

Ugh. Birthdays. He thought they were really stupid. Why make a big deal out of the day you were born? Especially if nobody really seemed to care much about your existence.

That's why when he awoke on his sixteenth birthday he was surprised. He'd completely forgotten about what happened on the day everyone had told him about since, well... since he could remember. Some of the things people said to him when he was still was a small boy were nice and comforting, something that made him look forward to this special day, like "Oh, what a lucky women that boy's soulmate will be," was something he got often when he was younger, before his mom's schizophrenia and before his dad's substance abuse. He used to be a really sweet kid. He gave his lollipops to others who looked like they wanted it more, he shared his toys with people in the park. He talked and interacted with everyone from a young age. He was a cute kid too, he remembered. That's what people always said. They would pinch his chubby cheeks and ruffle his dark brown hair, which would lead to Alex giving them his signature crooked smile, which warmed the hearts of many. "What a sweet soulmate he will be.", "The special girl won't know what hit her!" , "He will treat her like a queen i'm sure." thats what daycare teachers and random moms at the park used to say to his parents, complimenting him on how well little Alex treated their daughters. While most boys his age we certain that girls had cooties, Alex just simply talked to him and played with them like they were just a normal person. Not to mention, what a little charmer he was. He was a flirt from the moment he was born. He told some girls he thought they were 'weally pwetty' and said he liked the bows in their hair or the outfit they were wearing. He had mad game. Even from the young age of four he had somehow even managed to completely charm his preschool teacher Ms. Ryan, who he thought was the most beautiful women to ever walk the face of the earth at the time (other than his mom). Ms. Ryan definitely favored Alex, always giving him extra treats at snack, or letting him out first to go to recess. Turns out, being thirty three and a four year old boy telling you on an almost daily basis that 'your dwess is supa pwetty Ms. Ryan' or 'i wike your hair vwery much' was a major confidence booster.

It all changed when he was five though, when his mom's condition was getting worse and his dad started using more and more and more. The situation just decreased as the years went on. Out were the compliments and looks of adoration and in rolled the dirty glares and not-so secret whispers. "What a poor girl to have him as her soulmate.", "I would hate for my daughter to be tied to him forever.", "Let's just hope his soulmate can put up with him." were the ones he heard instead. It used to hurt, but now he didn't mind. He didn't have any friends, any girlfriends, just some mere acquaintances. All he could really say he had were about half of the school's females tucked under his belt. Something he didn't actually care about. Sex was a defense mechanism. Sex made him feel wanted. If some girl was throwing herself at him, he took the opportunity. He felt like he was wanted, even if it was just for twenty minutes in some random parking lot.

He didn't really care for birthdays.

So, imagine his surprise when he woke up that morning to find an orange envelope on his dresser table. It was then he remembered. He remembered that the day of your sixteenth birthday you found out who your soulmate was.

He grabbed the folder so quickly it was like a flash of light. This envelope gave him hope. Hope that one day, someone would care about him. Because, that was the point of soulmates, right? A soulmate was someone who was made for you. Someone who would be okay with all the crap life had thrown at him. Some who would _love_ you. Because, his soulmate would right? Right. She had to. He needed somebody. He really, really needed somebody. And his soulmate was his somebody. Hopefully.

With that thought he takes a deep breath and nearly rips the envelope open. He pulls out the three photos in it delicately, not wanting to even risk a crease or fold forming on the photos. He flips them over one by one.

The three photos.

Damn.

The three photos he'd been hearing about since he was a little boy.

The first one, as he had learned, is what your soulmate looked like on the day of _their_ sixteen birthday, whether it be in the future or the past.

He feels stupid, really stupid. He was smiling like a god damn idiot.

She was hot, his soulmate. _Really hot._

Her long brown hair was in gentle curls, natural he could tell. He knew what real curls were versus curling iron ones. She had bright golden eyes. He swore, they were like actual gold. They had specks of green, yellow, and honey. A little beauty mark sat by her right lip. And those lips? They were plump, full, and a bright pink. In the photo she was smiling. He really liked her smile. It was joyous, it made him feel happy, in a way he'd never felt before. He assumed she was laughing, based on the fact that her head was slightly tilted back. From what he could tell, she was wearing a pair of jeans and a flannel. He liked that about her, the fact that she wasn't wearing whatever uncomfortable shit he'd seen some girls at his school wear. She looked like she was dressed how she wanted to and wasn't gonna let society or school cliques tell her otherwise.

He let out a small sigh as he placed down the photo delicately, as if he dropped it any harsher it would break like glass. He picks up the second photo, another smile gracing his lips as he studies it.

The second photo was always of your soulmate the day you met. Well, more specifically, the first time you meet. In his, the girl looked even more beautiful. Except now, she wasn't a girl, she was a woman, and that was obvious. Her face was a bit fuller, and instead of having her hair down this time, two strands of her dark locks were framing her face. He could tell she was in the middle of saying something, but her face wasn't frozen in some awkward position. It looked natural, like a well shot candid.

Alex placed down the second photo just as delicately as the first, setting them side by side. The third and final photo he wasn't quite ready for.

The last photo was a picture of them at their worst. When they had hit absolute rock bottom, before thirty though. Again with the age. Alex didn't get it. Why should they put an age limit on knowing your soulmate? Wasn't there a saying in wedding vows, "for better or worse"? and that was for married people for god's sake. So, why shouldn't he be able to see his soulmate at her worst? It made sense right?

Alex flipped over the photograph hesitantly, his breath getting caught in his throat.

He slams the photo down on the bed as quickly as he could, not being able to look at it any longer.

He understood now.

His soulmate was beaten and bruised, almost all her marks, scars, and bruises visible due to the nightgown she wore. In the photo she was crying, silent tears, he could tell.

He understood now, why they only let you see towards a certain age. Because what if it was worse? What if something worse had happened while his soulmate was older?

A horrible thought came to his mind, shaking it off immediately.

_No, he did not do that._

He knew he didn't. He wouldn't. He'd seen his dad beat his mom again and again. He would never be like his dad. He swore on it.

But still, that lingering thought in his mind.

_No._

Instead of thinking further, he picked up the first photo of her, the one wheres she is sixteen too. He studies it, knowing that by tomorrow the photo would be gone. Just like the others. That was how it worked anyways. The photos only lasted a day. The next morning, the pictures would be gone. All he knew about her would be her face, which he was going to imprint into his memory as best as he could. The universe seemed to enjoy playing games with people, so again after the one day, your memory of the photo was foggy. Very foggy. It wasn't until you actually met your soulmate when you would remember the photos you saw when you were sixteen. So, her studied her. Even laugh line, every beauty mark, every freckle (she had them sprinkled in every so lightly on her nose). He would remember it all, he told himself that. So that way when he saw her, he would know. But of course, forgetting was inevitable.

He smiles at the photo, biting his lip in a failed attempt to stop his smile from growing. It all seemed surreal to him. A soulmate. He had one? He, Alexander Michael Karev, a boy who had to grow up much younger than most, had a soulmate? Someone who would be okay with his crap?

The man was far from a romantic. He gagged at chick flicks and still felt uncomfortable when he saw any form of PDA, whether it be him or anyone else, but he swore, he thinks this girl would make him okay with everything. For this girl, he could see himself do anything. He would jump in front of a bear for her. No doubt. It didn't matter that he had never even met her. He just knew. 

He shrugs the sappy thoughts away, scoffing at himself, in an attempt to not lose his 'tough guy behavior'.

_Get a hold of yourself Karev. She's just a girl._

But even those thoughts couldn't erase the smile from his face.

* * *

On the night before her sixteenth birthday, she was anxious. Really anxious. And scared. She could barely sleep that night, tossing and turning without being able to stop in the backseat of her car. But she knew the envelope wouldn't come unless she slept, since it only showed up after you fell asleep. So, she squeezed her eyes as tight as she could like a little girl wishing to see fairies and let the exhaustion of the days events take over her.

As she awoke the next morning, she temporarily forgot everything. For her, it was jut another day, trying to pry her exhausted eyes open, her mind having a battle with her body. She makes tiny noises as she drifts towards consciousness, her brain foggy with jumbled words and half made thoughts.

When she does manage to open her eyes, she sees an orange envelope tucked into the car's window from the inside. She doesn't think much of it at first, her brain still not on the cognitive thinking side of things, until she wakes up a bit more, remembering the day it was.

She sits up with a start, grabbing the envelope and opening it carefully, but still so quickly that the photos were tumbling out.

She picks up the first from the deck. A photo of her soulmate on his sixteenth birthday. And damn, she was a lucky woman.

He had a sharp jawline, no scratch that, a _really_ sharp jawline. Like you could run your finger across and you would end up with a cut. His messy-yet-styled hair was a dark brown. He had a broad build, biceps pulsing out form the white t-shirt he wore, and a really freakin sexy half smirk. His eyes were a dark brown like his hair, but his eyes, they held something familiar. They held, loneliness. Longing. Exhaustion. That was a big one. At first glance, you couldn't tell, but she could see, behind the eyes of dark brown and bits of green, he was exhausted. Exhausted of what? She didn't know. But she could tell, since she was sure she had the same in her orbs too. Loneliness. She felt that one too. But him? Lonely? He didn't look like the lonely type. He looked like the guys she saw at her school, the ones were girls falling at their feet and at least five different men to meet him every morning by the lockers to do a 'bro hug'. But she knew to not make assumptions. Longing. What was he longing for? A better life? Better parents? Better friends, better grades? She had no idea, but the look was clear in his eyes. But there was one more thing that shone in his seas of brown. Hope. The day of the photo was of the day of his sixteenth birthday. Could the glimmer of hope be for her? Could she be the cause of someone to believe. Probably not, but still, it never hurt to dream.

The second photo was of him the day they meet. And once again, she was a lucky lady. She couldn't quite see what he was wearing, but it looked to be some type of flimsy dark blue materiel. He had a half snarl on his face, but it didn't really look awkward, like she assumed it would on others. It looked natural, like he'd done it so many times before, it just came with ease. 

He had the slightest bit of a stubble on his face, looking like he'd just shaved that morning or the night before, a bit more hair visible in the mustache area. His hair was a bit shorter than the previous photo, but not by much. It was better styled, but still looked like he had run his hands through it too many times to count. She sets the photo down next the the other one, taking a deep breath before flipping over the third and final photograph.

She intakes a sharp breath upon seeing the picture, tears pooling in her eyes at the sight in her hand. It was her soumate, lyig in a pool of his own blood, the red liquid coming from his chest.

He was shot.

In the chest, she assumed. That's where the most of the blood was at. She bites her bottom lip, trying to keep it from trembling. He was what seemed to be a metal box. An elevator? That seemed most likely. His blood stained clothes were previously a light blue, his hair shorter than the previous two photos.

The clothing, it liked familiar. Where had she seen them before? She racks her brain, trying to identify what her soulmate was wearing, purposefully ignoring the large sum of red surrounding the man.

A small smile graces her lips. Scrubs. She'd seen them on a few people when she went into town. So that meant he was doctor. Right? Or a nurse, but he didn't really look like he would be a nurse. And his scrubs were a different color than the ones in the precious picture. She assumed the clothing were scrubs in the second photo as well.

She swallowed thickly. It hurt. She felt the pain. The pain of her soulmate getting shot. It hurt like hell, and she wasn't even experiencing it first hand. But it still hurt. It felt like someone was grabbing her heart and squeezing it. It wasn't the same type of pain, but it was still pain nonetheless.

With that she sets the photo down. The fear starts to kick in then.

How would he soulmate feel about her past? He looked normal. Despite the loneliness and longing in his eyes, her looked normal.

What if she screwed it up? What if he couldn't deal with her crazy? She was Brooke. Hobo, car living, foster home, no parents Brooke.

She shoved the thoughts aside. He was her soulmate. The handsome stranger with the dark eyes that were somehow calming was her soulmate. Who knows, maybe he was just as screwed up as her.

* * *

Alex Karev had always been impatient. Ever since he was a little boy really.

So imagine how impatient he was when he was twenty nine years old and had still yet to meet his soulmate.

Her loved Izzie, and she had lost Denny, her soulmate. They made each other happy. They loved each other, she was probably going to die. He loved her, so they got married. He got married to someone who wasn't his soulmate. He had given up at that point. I mean, come on. Twenty nine years he'd been on this planet and he still had yet to meet his soulmate. God, he really wished he could just remember her face. He couldn't remember a single thing. Everything else from the day was clear, but the photos that held his soulmates face were a complete blur, nearly nonexistent. All he could remember were his feelings. He remembers thinking she was really hot. And he remembers feeling really happy. Too happy. He pushed the feelings aside. He loved Izzie.

And it hurt like hell when she left. They had their arguments, sure. But he loved her. He waited to kiss her because he wanted it to be special. He gave her a cupcake on her birthday because he wanted her to know she was loved. He wanted to let her know that she wasn't just another notch under his belt. He was a jerk, he knew that. He could be grumpy and he pushed people away. He guessed he pushed Izzie away.

He didn't know if he was ever going to meet his soulmate. He tried dating by and only had a list of failed relationships. And then the plane crash happened. He should've been on that plane, but Robbins boarded it instead. Maybe he would've been the one to lose a leg. Then Robbins would still be happy and making Alex gag at how in love her and Callie were. They were soulmates. It seemed like everyone had already gout their soulmate. Meredith had Derek. Callie had Arizona. Owen had Cristina, even though they had more than many disagreements. Bailey had Ben. Everybody had somebody.

Except him.

And that freakin sucked. So, he slept with the interns. Lots of them. Stacy, Tina, Irene, Brooks, Murphy. He'd pretty much given up on meeting his soulmate. At thirty-two he had still yet to meet the girl from the photographs.

So, sleeping with the interns and having non serious , inappropriate relationships with them it is.

* * *

She had always been impatient. When she was six she once punched a boy because one; he was being a complete ass, and two; he was taking too long to give her the crayon. He deserved it. He was making fun of her and purposefully trying to flatten the green crayon just to annoy her. He _deserved_ the punch.

So when she met a man who treated her like a queen, who didn't beat her down for not having parents and living in her car she felt amazing. He called her beautiful and showered her with gifts and expensive foods. she didn't really care about that though, she enjoyed when he would delicately hold her like she was a porcelain doll. When he would greet her with a deep kiss after he came home from work.

She loved him so much that she agreed to marry him after only being together for eleven months. She knew Paul wasn't her soulmate, but a man who treated her so nicely, a man who was ever do handsome, wanted her? Who treated her with such love and tenderness, so what if he wasn't her soulmate. She was twenty three years old and hadn't met him yet. And if this amazing guy wanted her and loved her as much as she loved him, then it was okay, not being with her soulmate.

She held onto that love. She held onto that love for three years. Three years of beatings, begging that the man who showed her so much love and kindness would come back and stay.

Because Paul wasn't always bad. Some days he would come home and give her that breathtaking kiss as he walked through the door. Some days he still held her like she was a little porcelain doll.

Some days he did still show her that love like he used to that first year. But those days were few and far between.

She wished she had just waited. Gotten over her impatience for something real and waited. Maybe then everything would be okay.

Maybe one day she'll meet him.

* * *

She was no longer Brooke. No more with Brooke Stadler or the various names she took from all the different foster homes.

Now she was Jo. Josephine. Josephine Alice Wilson. It's who she felt like.

Jo. It was a bit old-timey, sure. But she liked it, the fact that she could probably confuse people who had only seen her name and think she was a boy. She didn't want to be a man, but maybe people would be surprised to see that all this well done work was actually done by a woman.

Jo was strong. Jo was powerful. Jo was the person she had always wanted to be.

She left behind Brooke. Brooke was... she was someone else. Brooke was a survivor. But Brooke was scared. Scared of everything. But Jo?

Jo knew Paul could find her. It would be hard, very hard. And he probably wouldn't, but now she wasn't scared. Brooke would've been scared. Brooke wouldn't been scared shitless. But Jo? No, Jo was far from scared. She was excited. She was eager. Because she had a new start. She got to be whoever the hell she wanted. She could go out and drink with her friends. She could go out and drink until she probably couldn't walk. She could do whatever the hell she wanted. She could wear whatever the hell she wanted. She could talk however the hell she wanted.

Because she was Jo.

But Jo did still want the one thing Brooke wanted. To find her soulmate. Sure, by now she knew that he probably didn't exist and the whole ordeal was just plain poppycock, but she wanted to find him. She really, truly, desperately wanted to find him.

She was twenty-seven years old and had a nonexistent love life. A few random hook ups from a bar were not included.

Maybe here. Maybe in Seattle she would meet her soulmate. (she wasn't counting on it though)

* * *

She was on Peds today, with Alex Karev. She hadn't ever met the man before, but she had heard more about him than she cared to. Mainly from Leah Murphy with the occasional input from Heather Brooks. From what she gathered, the easiest way to label him was a man whore. So she wasn't really the most excited to be on his service for the week.

She'd been in Seattle for a month now, starting her internship as Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital. She was in love. Sure, doing scut all day and running labs wasn't much, but when she gets to observe from inside the OR? She felt like she won the freakin lottery.

The girl grabbed a trauma gown form behind her attending. "Do you mind" he snarls not even meeting her gaze as he turns around and heads to the ambulance bay.

She says she was sorry, but she doesn't think he hears her.

"Why are you following me?" she doesn't know why, but for some reason his voice gives her butterflies. She hadn't gotten a look at his face yet, but she assumed it was turned into a grimace.

"I'm your intern for the day." her voice sends tingles through him, shooting down his spine. He hadn't seen her yet, but her voice was strangely comforting.

"Hello intern you got a-" he starts, stopping as soon as he looks at her.

He feels breath get caught in his throat. No, surely he was imagining things. Right?

She feels like she can't breathe. That face. It was the same one as the one she saw on her sixteenth birthday. She remembers him. His sharp jawline and tiny bit of stubble.

And those eyes. She remember those eyes.

They held the same things as before. Loneliness, longing, exhaustion. But now, the tiny glimmer of hope she once saw was bright, not like the barely there she saw once before.

He felt everything in that moment. She was just like he remembered. Her long brown hair was swept up into a low updo, two dark strands framing her face. She had that little beauty mark by lip. And her eyes, they were truly everything. They showed him what she was feeling, surprise, disbelief, a bit of fear, hope. he knew his eyes were telling her the same thing.

They're not sure how long they're standing there in the middle of the ambulance bay, oblivious to the two other people next to them.

She wasn't sure how long it was until he broke the silence, a large crooked smile making its way onto his lips.

_"_ _Hi."_

He whispers the words so delicately, as if he were to speak any louder the world around then would shatter.

She feels her smile widen, now grinning from ear to ear.

_"Hi."_

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @pagingevilspawn!


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